"Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. "So, the Mohocks have been at work, I perceive," remarked Quilt, as he drew near the group. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation.
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